2 : 332 : 14 : 51 : 13

We leave daylight quietly behind our backs. I follow in granny’s wake down the rough stone stairs into the banquet hall in the basement of Castle Menneroix. The solemn site of my trial. I pause at the threshold to look up at the wheel chandelier hanging off thick chains from the ceiling and the round table directly below it, and note how it's all just as I remembered.

Duh. Nothing much has changed about this place in centuries and I wasn’t away that long.

But what about the faces under the candles?

The rest of the gang’s gathered and waiting for us. As I hoped they'd be. I asked this week off, since I figured it was about time for the Order’s annual winter assembly, and looks I got it right too. It doesn’t seem anybody’s gone and died off while I wasn’t looking, though I came pretty close more than a few times myself.

My gaze lands on the Duchess of Orethgon, standing by her chair closest to the entrance, as if too restless to sit still.

For a handful of awkward seconds, we only stare at each other.

“Zero…” Irifan mouths my name, a mixed look on her face. Her lips form a faint smile of relief, but there's only anxious worry in her eyes. Hesitating, she puts her lips back together, unable to find the words.

“Hi,” I answer with a wry smile of my own and wave a little.

“You’re safe.”

“Yeah. I’m okay.”

I’m okay—but I can’t help but notice how thin and pale the boss looks. She has dark rings under her eyes and the corners are faintly wrinkled. Was she always that small and fragile? After three years in the land of eternals, seeing a mortal human again is a real eye-opener. Death is always close to us humans, like right behind a thin veil. The thought that my antics have hurried her to her grave makes me feel guiltier than murder.

I push myself to walk on.

Wouldn’t do to lose heart before anything’s even started yet.

I go around the table and lay my hand on my old seat. Although, I only used it once before and can't say my claim on it is very solid yet, but there's already firm emotional attachment. It's a nice chair to have.

Fondling the back rest, I look briefly around the table.

Irifan. Master Endol. Master Teresina. Master Khram. Vysania. Me. Master Gunlau. Sephram.

No new trainees. No body doubles. No impersonators or mimics. The same old Scooby gang. I sit down.

Let’s get this show on the road.

“Good morning,” Irifan formally opens the proceedings and gives each of us a quick glance. “My friends. I'm very grateful you could make it here today, despite your respective labors and the distance to travel. It's been a while since we last had the opportunity to convene with everyone together. There are many urgent affairs to discuss and every opinion shall be dearly welcome. However, before we proceed with the main agenda of the day, I believe we must first address the recent conflict in our own ranks. I previously asked this matter to be put on hold, until such a time came that the concerned parties could be present, and…Well, the time has now come.”

Irifan makes nervous eye contact with me and draws a breath.

“Zero. The Order of the Covenant was founded to be an impartial actor, neutral in politics, principles, and general conduct. ‘You will find no innocent men at war,’ my grandfather wrote, and I believe his words hold true. We bear banners of universal justice and fairness, by which to excuse our ventures outside the common laws of nations. But if we are neither just nor fair, then we are become little more but vigilantes; bandits in pursuit of self-satisfaction over the greater good, stained with hypocrisy. The hunter has become that which he hunts. This rule exists not only for idealistic reasons, but also for our very survival's sake. When you take another’s hand in alliance, his enemies then become your enemies also. And if you allow others to dictate who your enemies are, only doom awaits. These are lessons history has taught us. Heavy lessons, for which blood has been paid. The possibility alone that the Order may, depending on the times, side with a worldly power, would be reason enough for the legitimate rulers of the realm to seek our end. A community as small as ours must avoid such a scenario at all costs. The very idea must be clearly denied.”

Master Khram nods his head approvingly. “Hrum-hrum.” The gazes on me are grim.

Irifan continues,

“To uphold this rule, many of us have had to make difficult choices. We’ve had to abandon promises of security and stability. Some of us have even cut ties with their own tribes and families, enduring long-lasting consequences. And yet, Zero, you have violated this rule by swearing an oath of fealty to High Commander Lebennaum of the emiri kingdom of Osgonnoth. The nature of your misconduct is such that some of us have...called for your dismissal from the Order, effective immediately. What do you have to say in your defense?”

“...”

I'm still digesting the sermon.

When you put it like that, it really is a good rule to have. Very reasonable. Making a lot of sense. Practical points and philosophical points, all covered. At the same time, it sure highlights what a fool I’ve been.

They graciously arranged me the time and venue to give my side of the story, but what precisely is there to say?

Well, since I came all this way, I might as well say something.

I stand up, put a hand on my heart, look solemnly up at the ceiling, and reply,

“Your honor, guilty as charged.”

The defense has nothing to add.

A stunned silence follows my statement. The void of noise seems to beg for continuation, but I exercise my right to remain silent, seeing as everything I could say would definitely be used against me. Facts are facts. No amount of rhetoric is going to wind back time, or turn right what's wrong.

“Preposterous!” Master Khram barks, dumbstruck. “I have never heard anything as outrageous in my life! She has no respect whatsoever! After everything we've done…!”

Master Gunlau holds a level more composed, sitting with buff arms casually crossed. But it's the first time I ever see the monk master without a smile.

“Might you tell us the reason?” he requests.

Do I really have to? Taking the axe seems certain already, so I was hoping to spare myself the extra mile.

But, I kind of owe Master Gunlau, and since he was the one who asked, I guess a straight answer is the least I can do.

I scratch the back of my head with a sigh, and tell them,

“Look, the Commander isn't dumb. She knew what the deal was all along. But what kind of ruler would risk kickstarting a civil war only because a couple of beggars comes along with an essay? There’s no free lunch. You want someone to do a thing for you, you have to earn it first. She had to see how serious we are about this and words weren't going to cut it. The only choice was to play by their rules and have somebody jump the hoops, and that somebody had to be me. That’s it.”

Not that I realized this until a lot later, but no need to dwell on that.

“The only choice...was it?” Master Gunlau echoes, somewhat less tense.

You might be reading a pirated copy. Look for the official release to support the author.

“—Nonsense,” Master Endol interjects across the table. “There was no reason to bury our creed and accept conditions so disadvantageous to us. There were many other, wiser ways to handle the negotiations. You only assured yourself there was no alternative, because this method was the most lucrative one for yourself. As the Lord Commander intended. You were fooled, plain and simple.”

Vysania concurs. “You let the Dominion take advantage of you—of us—for their own purposes, and prettied up your mistake after the fact. And worst of all, you did it without asking any of us first.”

“And if I didn’t,” I answer, somewhat peeved, “we’d still sit here, twiddling our thumbs, bleaching chairs, asking what now, what now, with no answers or progress any which way. And a lot of nice, living creatures would now be dead! I mean, many did die, I admit—but the count would be dramatically higher!”

I pause and sigh, finding myself going off on an unintended tangent.

But this isn’t a laughing matter. I drop back down to sit and add with matching sobriety,

“Don’t ask me to regret that.”

A brief moment of silent table-staring follows my words.

A brief moment. Then Master Endol puts it to pieces again.

“You have always let your emotions to blind you, costing you sight of the whole. No one disputes that work to spare innocent lives is virtuous, and under different circumstances, we might even offer you words of praise. But that is not why you went to Amarno, Zero. If we cannot forestall our chief enemy, all of your efforts—noble or otherwise—will have been for nothing. Then what else have your actions these past years been but aimless folly? When all is said and done, what has your disregard of our tenets won you? Do you have any guarantee the Lord Commander of the Cradle will repay the favor and aid us? Or will she, at the very end, judge that you haven't done enough? I know my own people, Zero, and I dare say I know her eminence too. If you were to ask me whether she is ‘good’, the way human morality would have it, I’d be inclined to answer no. Honor and fairness alone are not reasons for that woman to do anything. It is a highly dubious gamble you've taken. Yet, what if it occurred to her eminence to view our Order a blemish to her afternoon, and demand our heads? By your oath, you are bound to deliver. Or will you break your word once more? Certainly, when a human has cast aside his or her honor one time, I’ve found it is easier done again. Although, it is questionable if you ever knew such a thing as loyalty to begin with.”

What, three years later, he’s still salty?

But I’m not the same greenhorn I was then, and I’m not about to let him pull the wool over my eyes with his walls of text this time.

“Is the Commander good or evil?” I borrow his line. “Well, I don’t have the brass to say I understand someone who lived alongside the dinosaurs. That'd be real BS. I don't even understand how the mind of barkeeps works! Morality in general is pure rocket science to me. But I can at least say this one thing with some confidence: somebody who went to war with gods and dragons and works 365 days a year to keep her country standing is sure not in it only to see the world burn! So, if she did happen to ask for your turnips one of these days, then I could only admit you’re not a compliment to the landscape anymore!”

Okay, that was a little too mean. I soften the blow with a gentler addition,

“I didn't only pick her side because she asked nicely. The end always justifies the means—the Commander is in that camp of people. And if only what we do is and stays correct, then she'll follow through in the end. I know it.”

Master Endol closes his eyes and refrains from additional arguments, surprisingly.

But Master Khram isn’t as easily convinced.

“As if elves would know what’s good for this planet? Ha! As long as their proud empire stands, the rest of us may as well vanish, for all they care! If only they could be sure of their own survival through the doom of this star, they wouldn’t lift a finger to postpone it! We are too deeply entangled in their webs already, and digging any deeper will be the end of our society! Enough is enough. Let this fool of a girl go now! May she prosper with her new lords and dance long to their amusement! I pity her already, but it is her own choice to make.”

“You’re just upset the kid chose theirs over yours,” Master Teresina interjects with a snort.

Master Khram’s hefty jaw drops and he turns mighty flustered. “W-why, no! That was not my—I'd never…!”

Really? Was that the only reason? Talk about petty!

Sephram rubs his tired eyes and then speaks up,

“I didn’t think this day would come when I got off the bed in the morning…but I have to side with Zero on this. We set out to make contacts in the Dominion, and I believe we got what we wanted. True enough, the point wasn’t for one of us to become said contact, and this does promise awfully many complications in our future, but—looking purely at the results, you have to admit she got the job done. Having even half a foot in the Immortals' halls of power is a perk unlike any we've had before. Throwing such a success away over a rule technicality would be too rigid of us. Can we afford to worry about honor, when the world's coming apart at the seams? The Order was founded on the principle that the Law isn’t never-erring; sometimes rules must be bent for the greater good. It would be beyond ironic, if we let overt adherence to the code become our unmaking.”

His words hit home. Nobody manages a reply.

“I didn’t pay him to say that, by the way,” I feel obligated to throw in a disclaimer. “There were no sexual favors.”

The rogue groans. “On second thought, please act like I said nothing…”

“Congratulations on your promotion, Zero,” Master Gunlau then tells me, the usual Buddha smile back on his face. “I heard from Martin. He saw you in the Mule last night and shared the stories.”

“Really?” News travel fast. I'm once again surprised by the small local circles.

He nods. “Master Gideon brings us regular news from overseas as well. Everyone at the school has followed your exploits with great interest, all the way. By the sound of it, you’ve put our teachings to good use. We are all very proud of how far you've come.”

“Thanks, Master! You should know, that tricky kick you taught me has saved my bacon more than once. Good thing you didn't let me bolt from training that day.”

“I am most glad to hear that.”

“—So we’ve moved to celebrating her now?” Vysania sourly comments from the side. “For making a mockery of our values and creed? For becoming a pawn to a foreign power? Only because this mad gamble has not come to bankrupt us yet? Though there are no real gains to be seen either, if any are indeed to come.”

“Oh, you're about to see some,” I assure her. “And soon. I haven't forgotten what we're here for. Not for a day. I will bring down Yaoldabath—and I’ll bring the Christmas spirit back with me when I do.”

“If only colorful expressions were enough to achieve the feat.”

“They might be. If you'll lend me a hand.”

I reach out to her, along with my heartfelt appeal and a smile.

Vysania stares at the open palm, surprised, almost startled by the gesture. She quickly looks the other way and hides under her bangs, a brief flash of pain in her eyes. The usual haughty, prickly air about her is shed for a beat and she looks only heart-achingly lonely and vulnerable. The arms crossed over the chest pull tighter, almost like a shield.

Why? I don't understand the reaction. Seeing her like that, I feel an overwhelming urge to go and pull her in a tight squeeze, but the moment passes and the conference isn't over.

Time, time must go on.

“We’ve prattled empty hours away over letting the twerp go,” Master Teresina speaks up in her hoarse voice, “but in regards to the vote at hand, the most important question remains to be asked: Do you actually even want to stay? The Order needs you, as much goes without saying, but do you think you still have a need of us? A friend is not a friend anymore, if you have to put chains on her. If you believe you can achieve more alongside the elves, then it would do nobody any good to bind you down to this tiny vale. It may be better for you to put your chips elsewhere. In that case, I will cast my vote to exile you.”

Her serious words command a real answer.

I stand up again and take a look around.

It’s essentially the same question Irifan asked me the day I joined up. Only our roles are reversed. And thinking back to that day and how I felt then, my mind is quickly made up.

Only a little embarrassed, I speak my mind,

“I picked up a little something in the time I was away. No, I think I knew this already long before that, but I keep finding the same answer in front of me every day. Saving the world—it’s a lot of back-breaking work. You can’t do it alone. I can’t do it alone. Not even the immortals can do it alone. Can't afford to be picky; we need everybody. We’ve got to do this together, all of us. So...You asked me if I'm in. But I'm asking all of you now: are you in?”

A silence follows my words.

But it’s not one of those awkward silences, where nobody knows what to say.

Not one of those grim, brooding silences, when everybody knows what to say but doesn’t want to say it.

It’s a dignified, uplifting silence that makes the candles' light seem brighter.

A silence that needs no words to tell the meaning.

Then Irifan stands up.

“We shall proceed with the final vote,” she announces. “All those of you, who wish Zero to be excommunicated, please raise your hand, so that I may count you.”

The moment of truth.

I close my eyes, draw a deep, quiet breath, and then open my eyes again and look.

I see not one hand raised.

Irifan's face melts into a smile. A wide, sincere smile is on her face once again.

She brushes a corner of her eye and concludes,

“Very well. With that behind us, Masters of the Order, we will hereby begin our assembly.”